Mazel Tov, Mr Frodo!
by The Darkest Holme
Summary: Two brothers are having Passover when a certain group of travelers comes knocking on their door. Now they not only have to deal with the impending threat of adulthood and social workers, they have nine people depending on them to get back to Middle Earth and save both of their worlds from the Darkness... Or something like that. T for alcohol and language
1. A Seder Fit for Kings

**This fic is dedicated to my brother and his righteous Jewish rage that inspired me to write this. L'chayim, you fucking animal.**

* * *

"So." Michael set down the bags on the table, pushing his hair out of his face and looking to his little brother. "The store was out of sacramental wine, so I got vodka and _The Prince of Egypt_ for Passover."

"Perfect." Gabriel grinned and closed his laptop. The essay could wait. "They didn't give you trouble for being only nineteen?"

"Are you kidding me?" He shucked off his leather jacket and hung it on the hook beside the apartment door before dropping into his chair. There was one for each of them, and a table between them, stacked high with books. "Sarah Goldman was there, she talked to Jacob, and before you could say Gut Yontiff, we made out like bandits." They both laughed. "How was school today?"

"My junior essay is killing me." Gabriel tossed his brother a thick, beaten book brimming with post-it notes and slips of paper. "We have to read, annotate, and analyse the morals in _Paradise Lost,_ and we have to do it by Monday. I'm seriously considering committing ritualistic suicide over this."

Michael laughed and shook his head. "God, I hated this assignment. I think I still have my essay that I wrote for this-."

Gabriel gave a strangled scream, his eyes widening as he stumbled over himself to plead at his brother's feet. "_Bro if you love me then you'll let me copy._"

"It's _because_ I love you that I'm going to let you suffer and do it all yourself." He winked and stood up, walking to the kitchen as the 17-year-old yelled curses at him. The brothers had lived together for years, and he wanted to see his little brother excel in everything that he failed in. He'd barely graduated from high school, but this kid was getting phone calls from Stanford and other colleges almost every day begging him to come to their school.

That didn't mean that they wouldn't break the law and get drunk together so often that their grandmother was probably spinning in her grave, but whatever.

"I'm making dinner." Michael announced, throwing open the fridge to examine what they had to eat. He could at least pretend to be a responsible brother and guardian. "What do you want? Pizza?"

"You know damn well you're getting drunk off your ass and eating all of the matzo again." Gabriel called from the living room, and Michael's head hung as he sighed.

_The little bastard's right._ He closed the fridge and grabbed two glasses and the bottle before heading back into the living room. "If you're reading Milton, God knows you're going to need this." He set the glasses down on the table between their chairs and opened the bottle, ignoring the urge to slap the smug smirk off of his brother's face.

* * *

"Lucifer was such a _nice guy!_" Gabriel's words were slurring as the brothers laughed together and the movie played in the background. "I mean, think about it, man! He just-."

"You're a terrible Jew." Michael giggled.

"No, _you_ are!"

"At least I'm not a Satan apologist!"

"Mike, our Seder consists of matzo, wings, french fries, and vodka. You're going to Hell." They stared at each other, then burst into a fit of laughter. They hadn't had a proper Passover in a long, long time. At this point, what they were doing right then was more tradition than an actual Passover, God help them.

"We still have time." Michael tried to stand up, then flopped into his chair. He tried to remember what to do - God, how many years had it been since he'd done an actual Passover? Didn't they open the door for a prophet? Yeah, they did! He pointed in the general direction of the door. "Go open the door for Elijah."

"Why do I have to?" Gabriel whined.

"Because you're the youngest, and I said so." Michael nodded with finality, and Gabriel whined again before standing to go to the door, swaying on his feet.

"Oh _fuck.__ Oh_ fuck. _Oh fuck._" Gabriel grinned and cast his arms out to balance himself. "This is amazing. I'm ascending."

"Let the prophet in, you piece of shit."

"Fight me."

Gabriel stumbled towards the door, leaning against it heavily. He smelled open forest air, and he thought he could hear birds singing in the breeze... "I'm tripping balls." He muttered, scrabbling for the doorknob.

"Elijah isn't gonna wait all night, Gabriel!" Michael shouted.

"He's waited three thousand years, he can wait thirty seconds." Finally he grasped the doorknob and threw the door open. He was hit in the face by a rush of clean, crisp smelling air, and he blinked a few times as his vision swam. When it cleared, he stared blankly for a long moment, his mouth hanging open. "Mike..."

"What?" Michael had ended up with his legs hanging over the chair's arms, his head lolling to the side.

"I don't think this is Elijah."

"You're quite right, lad." The old man said bemusedly. "I am Gandalf the Grey. Would you care to tell us where we are?"

"I..." Gabriel blinked a few more times. "... I am way too sober for this."


	2. Goyiche Problems

**By the way, this takes place during Passover 2015, so it begins on the night of Friday, April 3rd, and ends on the night of Saturday, April 11.**

**Once again dedicated to my brother, who is apparently known to his friends as "Jew Chainz" but is known to my father as "disappointment" and to me as "stupid puppy brother".**

**Underlined text is in Elvish.**

* * *

Michael had seen some shit in his nineteen years. He'd been _responsible_ for some shit too, more than he'd ever admit. Nothing compared to seeing a group of nine men dressed like they belonged in a Renaissance fair on the doorstep in the middle of the night.

He glanced them over and looked at Gabriel, who shrugged. "The old dude said his name was Gandalf." He offered.

"Gandalf the Grey." The man dressed in grey robes with a tall, pointy hat and an intricate staff corrected gently. "Once again, may I ask where we are?"

Michael raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. "Fuckin' cosplayers." He muttered before saying "Look guys, your costumes are pretty cool, but my brother and I are in the middle of a _very_ important religious ceremony, so can this at least wait until the morning?"

"Costumes?" A voice from the back piped up. "What costumes?"

"I think he's talking about our clothes, Pip." Another voice said.

"Young man, these are not costumes." The old man said. "And I am sorry to interrupt your vigil, but I believe we are quite lost, and your door was the first we saw."

"Uh..." Gabriel ran his hand over his face. He was trying to sober up, but was largely failing. "We live on the third floor at the end of the hall... I'm, like, 90% sure you ran into a bunch of other doors before ours." His brow furrowed in thought. "Did Ali put you up to this? Tell him to save the jokes for the debate room. How did he even find my house-?"

"Young sirs, this is no joke." Another man spoke, with dark hair and clothes, looking like he spent most of his life outside. "We are travelers on our way to Gondor, when we encountered a sorceress. We do not know where we are now, and we need assistance."

Michael snorted and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. "Gondor, huh? And Gandalf?" He rolled his eyes. "And let me guess, you're Aragorn son of Arathorn, and this is the Fellowship of the Ring."

The man stiffened, and the entire group stared at him in shock. "How do you know that name?" The old man demanded harshly. "Speak!"

"First of all, watch your mouth or I'll call the cops and get your ass hauled in jail for harassment." Michael jabbed his finger at the amused-looking man. "And dude, do you really think that you can fool someone into thinking you're from _Lord of the Rings?_ Seriously? Don't you have something better to do? I mean, I'm obsessed too, don't get me wrong, but I'm not _that_ bad."

"You're pretty bad, Mike." Gabriel commented.

"Shut up."

"I do not trust them." Legolas murmured to Gandalf as they examined the two young men standing in front of them. The elder one was leaning against the doorway with a glare fixed on his face, a dark and disheveled mop of hair on his head. The other man, most likely his brother, had golden hair in ringlets and was standing next to him, nervously glancing over the Fellowship. They were both obviously intoxicated, swaying on their feet, and dressed in strange clothing. Everything around them was strange and new; where had they been sent? "They are likely spies of Sauron."

"Patience, young prince." Gandalf replied. "I do not think they are a threat."

"Then how did they know Aragorn's name? Or the Fellowship? Something is wrong here." He glanced at the brothers again. "They will turn us in to the Enemy at the first chance they get-."

"I speak Elvish, motherfucker." The dark-haired brother snarled, stunning the Elf into silence. "You're not as sneaky as you think you are." He continued in Common.

"I... you..." Legolas stammered.

"Still just as much of a nerd as you were in seventh grade." Gabriel teased.

"So I like Tolkien and learned the language, crucify me, why don't you?" Michael turned his attention back to the men on his doorstep. "I applaud your dedication, but this is really going too far, so please, just leave us alone-."

"Wait!" Some of the men were pushed aside, and what looked like a small child shoved his way to the front to talk to the brothers. "We're not lying! My name is Pippin, I'm from the Shire. And these are my friends, Merry, Sam and Frodo." he gestured to where three other small children... men... people had pushed their way to the front.

"Mike, do you think they're telling the truth?" Gabriel whispered.

"Yeah, and I'm Ruth and you're Naomi." Michael rolled his eyes again.

"I don't know, man, they look pretty convincing..."

"It would take a goddamn miracle to convince me that these guys are-."

Gandalf cut him off mid-sentence by raising up his hand and letting loose a surge of magic. Michael gasped and froze, his eyes wide as his hands grabbed his brother's arm. "What are you doing to him?!" Gabriel demanded, looking between the old man and his brother. After a moment, Gandalf released him, and Michael stumbled back and collapsed onto the ground as he gasped for breath. "Mike! Mike." Gabriel rushed to the older man's side. "Mike, are you okay? What the hell just happened?"

Michael closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "Gabe?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how I said it would take a miracle to convince me that they're real?"

"Yeah...?"

He opened his eyes and stared at the Fellowship. "That was a fucking _miracle._"

* * *

Michael's hands were still shaking as he held a mug of tea to calm his nerves. He was depressingly sober after an hour of talking with the Fellowship. His head was pounding, which wasn't helped by the fact that he was _still_ panicking that he had nine fictional characters in his apartment that could barely fit him and his brother. And the worst part? They were out of alcohol.

"So let me get this straight." Gabriel leaned forward and clasped his hands together as he leaned his elbows on his knees. The brothers were each in their chairs, the Hobbits were sitting clustered together on the floor, the four dinner table chairs had been commandeered by Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf and Boromir, and Gimli was sitting on the kitchen counter stool. They all formed something that vaguely resembled a circle, all facing each other. "You were travelling to Moria when you ran into... a witch?"

"A sorceress, yes." Gandalf nodded. "Not one of the Istari, of course, but rather one of Men who dabbled in magic and was corrupted by it."

"So you pissed this witch off, and then she cursed you guys and you just turned up on our doorstep..."

Gandalf grimaced at the events being reduced to such simple and crude terms, but nodded. "Correct."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and blew out the breath he was holding. "This is the wildest Passover we've ever had." He laughed nervously.

"There was that time that Rabbi Ornstein tried to bring us closer to God by playing his mix tape." Michael offered lamely. "Or that time we ended up in Mexico. Or that time-."

"I get it, Michael." Gabriel glared at his brother, who smirked. "So... what now?"

"We must find a way to return to Middle Earth." Aragorn said from where he was puffing on his pipe, filling the room with sweet-smelling smoke. "You obviously know the urgency of our quest. Will you help us find a way back to our home?"

Michael nodded shakily. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, I'm pretty sure no one else will." He glanced at Gabriel, who was staring at him like he was insane. "Dude, you know that's true. They'd be locked up in a second."

"I still don't even know what happened to convince you." Gabriel muttered, but he went along with it. "How do you think we can help them? You have work in the morning, and I have school on Monday, and if they're not gone by then, we're screwed."

"Why is that?" Legolas asked. He was still cautious around the brothers, especially because he knew that Michael spoke at least some Elvish.

"Our social worker comes on Monday after Mike and I get home." Gabriel explained.

"What is a social worker?"

"A goy bitch who thinks that just because I'm 19, I can't take care of my brother like I've been doing for the past seven years." Michael glowered at his cup at the thought of the social worker whose sole purpose seemed to be bothering him.

"What's a goy?" One of the Hobbits asked.

"A thorn in my side."

Gabriel snorted with laughter as Michael maintained a dead serious face. "Mike, she's not _that_ bad."

"_She used the menorah as a hat rack!_" Michael almost screeched, making several members of the Fellowship jump. Michael drank his tea as Gabriel explained just why Michael was so upset over that. Gabriel was right; if the Fellowship wasn't out by Monday evening, they were screwed beyond imagining. He glanced over the men who'd taken up residence in his living room. He as an obsessive Tolkien fan, sure, and he knew the characters, but he had no idea how to react now that he could actually talk to and interact with them. Or even if he should trust them, for that matter. As soon as he had that thought, he shook his head. He knew what Gandalf had showed him; he could trust them, and... he _wanted_ to help them. He stood up and looked at the clock; it was creeping on 1 AM. "Okay, everyone, I think we ought to go to bed." He announced. "Gabe, clear off your bottom bunk, and I'll get some pallets up."

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he saw the exhausted slump in his brother's shoulders. He loved to mess with his older brother, but with what had happened in the last hour and a half, and the fact that the man was going to have to get up in about five hours to go to work, he decided that arguing was _not_ what was needed.

As the brothers worked on getting places to sleep ready, the Fellowship took their chance to speak amongst themselves. "Can they be trusted, Gandalf?" Boromir asked anxiously.

"I believe so." The wizard nodded. "They are strange, yes, but they mean no harm."

"What of the dark-haired one, Michael?" Aragorn asked. "He knew my name by simply looking at me, and he knew our task almost immediately. How could he possibly have known?"

"I believe this is a parallel world to ours." Gandalf explained, shifting in the wooden chair. "In this world, ours is simply a story, and a well-known one I would think. The sorceress who sent us here must have some kind of power over moving between worlds." He paused, lost in thought.

"How will we find a way back?" Legolas added. "Before we... fell through, I suppose, she said that we would need to find-."

" '_A guide, a light, in turn, a sacrifice._' I am well aware, Master Elf. Whatever she meant, I am willing to wager that these young men will be able to help us find it."

A loud crash interrupted their conversation. "_Oy gevalt,_ you fucking disaster!" Michael bellowed in exasperation.

"That vase was hideous anyway." Gabriel's reply was cheery and without a hint of regret.

"_That vase_ was worth more than your miserable life!"

"You know you love me, Mikey."

"Clean up your damn mess."

"They seem angry." Merry said nervously. "How can they live with each other?"

"You've clearly never had a brother." Michael came into the living room and gestured down the hallway. Gabriel could be heard to be muttering 'kiss, kiss, fall in love, my ass...' "Okay, split up. Three in my room, four in Gabe's room, two in here." In a matter of minutes, the Fellowship was settled into their various sleeping quarters, and everyone was off to sleep.

Theoretically, at least.


	3. Latkes and Conversations

**Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! They made me smile. :) Guest: You're correct, my brother and I are Jewish, though we're not very good at it.**

**I know I should be working on my other fic, but this is so much more fun, so have another chapter.**

**Dedicated to my brother, who can win a debate even when he's completely wasted and can barely stand on his feet. You are a force of nature.**

* * *

Michael cracked open his eyes as the sunlight streamed through his window and hit his face. He winced, turning over and groaning into his pillow as his hangover hit him full-force. Another year, another night of completely demolishing their respect for tradition, another successful Seder executed by the Rosenthal brothers. What had even happened that night? He remembered drinking with Gabriel and watching _The Prince of Egypt_, then Gabriel got emotional over Lucifer, then...

_Oh fuck._

He sat bolt upright in his bed and looked at the floor. Sure enough, three pallets were on the floor, obviously slept in, and there was a pile of weapons next to the door. He heard voices in the front room and smelled something cooking. "I cannot fucking believe this." He whispered, grabbing his hair and hyperventilating. There were characters from _Lord of the fucking Rings_ in his apartment. This was crazy. Insane. Absolutely batshit. It was something out of the fanfictions that Rebecca used to write-

_Don't think about Rebecca._ He winced as painful memories came rushing over him. He sighed, shook his head and stood up, stuffing the memories back where they belonged. One day he'd deal with them like a healthy, rational adult, but that was not today. He was still in somewhat decent clothes - jeans and a band t-shirt. Though they smelled like something smoky and sweet...

The door opened just as Michael reached for the doorknob, and he came face-to-face with a man who could only be - "Aragorn." Michael blinked a few times. "Uh. Good morning."

"To you as well, Master Michael." The taller man bowed his head slightly. He towered over the 19-year-old, and even in his battered clothing, Michael could feel his noble standing. Yep, there was no mistaking him; the heir to Gondor was standing in front of him. That meant that they didn't just have some really convincing cosplayers - they had actual fictional characters. Fantastic. "Your brother requested that I bring you into the kitchen for breakfast."

"Oh. Okay." Michael blinked a few times, trying not to freak out because _holy fuck, I'm talking to Aragorn._ "Thank you. Uh. Sir."

"There is no need to call me 'sir' in your own home." Aragorn smiled and stepped aside for Michael to squeeze past. Michael thought he heard a chuckle when he'd slipped by and headed down the hallway. He saw that most of the Fellowship had convened around the kitchen. The Hobbits had pulled up the stools to the breakfast bar and were eagerly watching Gabriel try to make pancakes and bacon. A lithe blond man - Legolas, probably - was perched on the counter as he watched Gabriel with curiosity. Gandalf was sitting in Michael's chair as he tried to figure out a rubix cube, a man with red-brown hair (Boromir? Probably) was smoking from his pipe in Gabriel's chair, and Gimli had pulled up a dinner chair to the breakfast bar to wait.

"So what is this place again?" The dark-haired Hobbit asked.

"It's called Earth." He gingerly flipped one of the pancakes. "Our country is the United States of America, the state we're in is California, and we are in the shining city of Los Angeles. And no, it's not anything like where you come from. At least, it hasn't been for hundreds of years."

"What's it like?" Pippin asked.

"Well, you are just going to _love_ indoor plumbing." Gabriel muttered, poking at the bacon.

"Are you quite sure you know what you're doing?" Legolas asked with a hint of amusement.

"Don't question me, I'm absolutely in control-" Gabriel gave a shrill shriek and jumped back as the oil popped.

"Let me do this, you beautiful disaster." Michael shouldered his way into the kitchen and took the spatula from Gabriel's hand, flipping the pancakes and checking the bacon and sausages. He felt comfortable taking command of the kitchen, and started firing orders. "Start shredding some potatoes for latkes. Start the dishwasher too, we're going to need plates. Do we have enough drinks for them?"

"Uh, Mike?" Gabriel said slowly.

"Unless it's about the food, stuff it." Michael flipped the bacon, shaking the pan to spread the grease around. "Those potatoes aren't going to shred themselves, Gabey Baby." Gabriel threw up his hands and muttered a curse before doing what he'd been told. "How did everyone sleep?"

"Well enough." Gandalf replied. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"No problem. It's my pleasure." Michael grabbed a plate and some paper towels and started putting the crisp bacon on the plate. "I mean, not everyone gets the chance to help their favorite characters, right?"

"About that." Aragorn leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, silently taking in the young man. "Is it true that our Fellowship is nothing but a story in this world?"

"Yep." Michael turned the sausages over, chewing his lip. "Your story was written by a man named J. R. R. Tolkien about sixty years or so ago, and it's become one of the most well known stories in the world."

"And you know the story well?"

Gabriel snorted. "He wouldn't shut up about it for years." He said as he peeled the potatoes. "He had, like, no friends."

"Neither did you." Michael muttered, a blush rising to his face. Aragorn smiled in amusement. "But he's right, I know the story better than I know most of my classes."

"So you know our quest and what becomes of us?" Legolas asked, peering curiously at the dark-haired mortal. He was young, but carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, the prince could see that much. And for all of his jesting, he was deeply, deeply worried.

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, uh..." He glanced over at Gabriel, who gave him a warning glance. "Yes and yes."

"So you can help us." Boromir spoke up hopefully. "Tell us of any hazards we may come across."

"Um." Michael laughed nervously. "I'm not sure that's a good idea." _Probably because you end up being a pincushion for Uruk-hai._

"And why is that, lad?" Gimli said suspiciously. "Something you don't want to tell us?"

"Well, I'm not exactly experienced with interfering with fictional stories. I don't know if I'll mess up all of space and time by telling you what happens or not, and honestly, I don't want to take that chance." He hesitated. "Where exactly were you guys?"

The Fellowship all glanced to Gandalf, who had finished the rubix cube and was listening to the conversation. "We had just come down from Caradhras and were making our way to the mines of Moria." He said.

Michael shivered, and Gabriel sharply elbowed his side. "Uh. Okay, I know where that is." He took out the sausages and started taking the latke mix and frying them in the leftover grease, flipping the pancakes too.

"Yes." Legolas's voice was guarded, and Michael could feel eyes examining him, trying to pick him apart. He also felt Gabriel's side glances as they silently worked together. They could pretend all they wanted that everything was all right, but it wasn't. They both knew enough to know that a shitstorm was coming, and if they weren't careful, it would probably knock them off of their feet.

After another five minutes of cooking, Michael triumphantly presented the best breakfast he'd made in a long, long time. "There we go." He started serving the food, making sure to give generous portions to the Hobbits. "Pancakes with maple syrup and blueberries, latkes with applesauce, and bacon and sausages. Eat your heart out." The Fellowship thanked him heartily and dug into their food.

Pippin's eyes widened as he tried the latkes. "These are delicious!" He cried.

"They're traditional." Michael half-grinned. "Our Rabbi and his wife taught me how to make them."

"What's a Rabbi?" Merry asked through a mouthful of food.

"A holy man in our religion." Gabriel explained as he poured the grease out. "Our Rabbi, Rabbi Gofman, thinks the sun shines out of Mike's ass." He laughed at the confused expressions he received. "That means he thinks my good-for-nothing heathen brother is the greatest thing to ever exist."

"He does _not!_" Michael protested. "He just wants me to become a Rabbi too."

"If he knew half the shit you pull, he would have you exorcised." Gabriel grinned. The Fellowship all exchanged glances before they continued eating.

Michael sighed and threw down the towel he'd wiped his hands off with. "_Now,_ what did you want, Gabe?"

Gabriel pointed his thumb at the clock. "You're an hour late for work." He laughed as his brother bolted down the hallway to his room, peeling off his shirt and cursing the entire way.

"Now, Master Gabriel, that was hardly kind of you." Gandalf smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"If you'd lived with Mike for seventeen years, you'd understand." Gabriel smiled cheekily and took a bite out of a latke. As Michael hopped through the living room with one leg in his pants and took a swat at the taller brother's head, Legolas decided that he had never seen a stranger pair of brothers, including the sons of Elrond.

* * *

Michael sprinted through the doors of the bistro at fifteen minutes past ten, a miracle since he'd made a normally fifteen minute walk in five minutes. "You're late." The girl behind the counter called, leaning forward on her elbows with an amused smile.

"You wouldn't _believe_ the night I had, Lucy." He stopped to catch his breath, looking around. There were only a few people there, all absorbed in their phones or laptops. He sighed and tied his apron on, tying his jaw-length hair up as well.

"Knowing you two, I bet it had something to do with alcohol." Lucy sighed. Michael laughed as he went behind the counter, giving her a kiss on the forehead as he passed by her.

"Why, Lucy, I will have you know that my brother and I are _underage_, and consuming alcohol would be _illegal!_" He laughed again when she threw a towel at his face.

"You're full of shit, Rosenthal."

"You're lucky you're pretty, Kane."

Lucy rolled her eyes, but spared a smile for her friend. She'd worked with Michael for a long time, and for all he joked around, he was a hard worker and a loyal friend. "Your complements might work on all the other girls, but not me." She said as she continued to count out the money in the register.

"Aren't you going to ask me about my night?" He pouted dramatically.

"We have work to do." She nodded towards the flock of excited teenagers and their weary-looking parents coming their way. The friends were caught up in a flurry of work that didn't stop as group after group came into the bistro. Secretly, Michael was glad for the work, and the time to think. He needed to figure out a way to help the Fellowship while making sure he and his brother were protected. If the social worker walked in and saw nine strange men armed with swords and daggers in his apartment... well, he could say goodbye to custody.

He pulled on the cappuccino machine and chewed his lip nervously. He had no idea how they could have ended up in this world, in _his apartment_, no less. What was so special about him and Gabriel? They were a couple of kids with a bad past and emotional baggage to match. He shook his head and went out with the tray to the table, serving their orders with a smile. He had until midnight to think about it before he had to go home and see them again. He just hoped Gabriel wouldn't burn the place down while he was gone.

* * *

"What does your brother do for a living?" Boromir asked Gabriel as he washed the dishes, curious about the young brothers. He was suspicious of Michael and his reluctance to tell them their fates, but the younger and taller brother reminded him of Faramir at his best, before their father beat him down.

"He works at a restaurant during the day. And at night..." He cleared his throat to disguise his laughter. "He's a... uh... a singer."

"Oh." Pippin said. "Well, what's so bad about that?"

"You have no idea." Gabriel muttered. "So what do you guys want to do?"

"What is there to do?" Boromir stood and stretched. The apartment was small, and they all could barely fit inside. The view outside was just of another tall brick building, presumably with other apartments.

"I'm pretty sure Mike would flip out if I let you leave the apartment dressed like that." Gabriel rubbed his chin as he looked them all over. "People don't exactly dress like that here. They dress more like me." He spread his arms and let them look at his shirt and pants made from a strange, rough blue fabric. "Uh... we could play cards?" He smiled nervously. _This is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be._


	4. It's A Hard Day's Night

**I'm taking this chance to throw in some LGBT+ characters because every character in fanfic seems to be straight and cis and honestly that's pretty boring, especially since you're working with a fantasy world that could have entirely different gender or sexuality roles. Or even worse, you're working with the modern world, and that's _definitely_ diverse with gender and sexuality. So really there's no excuse for why there isn't a nonbinary, hella queer 10th walker somewhere around here.**

**Also pipeweed is actually weed I will fight you on this**

**This chapter has drug use (just pipeweed) so if that's a thing for you, proceed with caution.**

**Dedicated to my brother, who gives me a kick in the ass when I need it and calls a moron the rest of the time. I'd probably be dead without you.**

* * *

"So then Joffrey suddenly keels over during his wedding to Margaery because the wine Tyrion gave him was poisoned, and as he's dying, he points to Tyrion, so he gets arrested. But it was actually Margaery's grandmother who poisoned the cup when it was on the table!"

"No!" Pippin breathed. The Fellowship was all gathered around Gabriel, who was doing his best to sum up _Game of Thrones_ for them. Gandalf and Aragorn were in the back watching them quietly, but everyone else was leaning forward, hanging on to his every word. He'd been at it for about an hour, and so far they absolutely loved it. It kind of amused him to see grown men absolutely enraptured by a TV show that Gabriel himself had grown tired of.

Gabriel nodded solemnly. "While everyone is panicking, Dontos Hollard tells Sansa to-."

"Wait, who?" Sam asked.

"The knight that Sansa saved and Joffrey made him the court fool." When they nodded their understanding, he continued on. "He tells Sansa to come with him if she wants to live, and he gets her out of King's Landing right before Ceresi orders her arrested-."

"Why would Ceresi arrest her?" Merry asked.

"She's Tyrion's wife." Boromir explained, and Gabriel nodded. "But wait, how did they escape? Would Ceresi not have King's Landing closed to any coming in or out?"

"She did, but not before Sansa and Dontos got to a rowboat-."

"A rowboat? It would make more sense for-."

"Well it was a rowboat, okay? Anyway, they row to a ship in the fog, and Petyr is on the ship. He tells Sansa that Dontos only saved her because Petyr promised to pay him-." The Hobbits and Boromir shouted their protests, and Gabriel held up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, but that's the story! And seriously, out of everything that goes on, _that's_ what gets you riled up?"

"But he gave her his family heirloom." Frodo spoke up. He didn't talk much, Gabriel noticed, but he was equally wrapped up in the story, if his body language said anything. "Surely he cared for her some?"

Gabriel shook his head. "The necklace was a fake, and he expected Petyr to pay him for it. Anyway, Petyr kills him-."

"Everyone in this tale dies!" Legolas protested. "Do _any_ of them survive?"

Gabriel shrugged. "It's not finished yet-." The Fellowship all groaned in exasperation.

"_Now_ you tell us?" Gimli barked.

Gabriel groaned and covered his face. "This is worse than babysitting a bunch of toddlers." He muttered. "Okay. Okay. Is there anything else you want to do? We've ordered pizza, we've watched a bunch of movies, we've played poker, B.S., go fish, slapjack, and pretty much every conceivable card game known to man..."

"I think we all need a good, relaxing smoke." Gimli said with finality, pulling out his pipe to prove his point.

"I agree." Aragorn said, propping up his feet. "Everyone is agitated; it will be good for us to relax. Master Gabriel only wishes to be a good host, it is not his fault."

"What exactly do you guys smoke?" Gabriel asked as everyone pulled out their pipes, except Legolas, who raised an eyebrow in distaste. "Is it tobacco? Do you even know what tobacco is?"

"Of course we know what tobacco is!" Boromir was cleaning his pipe, and Legolas moved over to the window. "But this is not tobacco. It is called pipeweed; it grows as a common weed in my country. But its leaves and flowers prove for a very relaxing smoke."

Gabriel's eyes widened as it suddenly made sense. "Oh." He said. _Holy shit. Some kind of medieval weed?! Mike would have a litter of kittens if he knew what this was._

"Would you like some?" Merry offered. "I have a spare pipe somewhere..."

Gabriel looked at the clock; it was five minutes till ten. He had plenty of time before Michael got home. "Sure." He grinned.

* * *

"Great set tonight!" Scott threw his arm around Michael's shoulders as they sauntered off the stage to the cheers of the crowd. His black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, but he still managed to look the part of a heartbreaker. "You always drive them crazy, you blue-eyed vixen." He winked and grinned, leaning heavily on him.

"Not as great as usual, but we managed." Michael put his arm around his friend and bandmate as they went backstage, laughing and cracking jokes as they walked. Their stuff was waiting for them, with a round of water bottles and towels. "Thank fuck." He muttered before he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off of his face. he grabbed a water bottle and gulped it down in one go, ignoring Scott's comment of "Wow, someone's thirsty." He and Scott cleaned themselves up as the staff started to clear out and the house music started to take over the club. The tip jar was overflowing, and Michael's waistband was stuffed with dollar bills. He grabbed his half of the tips and the dollar bills and counted them out. "Sweet, I made a hundred bucks." He stripped off the too-tight, sweat-soaked shirt he wore for his music sets, rolling his eyes at Scott's appreciative whistle. "Save it for the stage, Scotty."

"You know you like it, Mikey." Scott winked and grinned.

"I'm out of your league, baby."

"Oh well, your brother's cute too." They laughed. "So how'd your seeding or whatever go?"

"Seder." Michael corrected. "Oh my fucking God, you would not _believe_ the shit we got into, Scott."

"I can imagine. Let me try to picture it;" He slung his arm around Michael again and put his hand out in front of them like he was illustrating a scene. "Two brothers, so much booze you could drown, a couple of cute girls - or boys, you know, whatever you want-."

"Not _that_ kind of shit." Michael ducked under the arm and got the rest of his stuff together as he thought. He liked Scott - he _trusted_ Scott - but did he trust him with something that could have him institutionalized if he didn't believe him? He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Scott was twenty-one years old and built like a brickhouse; he and Michael had met through the Rabbi, because Scott's family was ethnically Jewish, even though he didn't practice it. They hit it off really well, and teamed up for music gigs, and had been fast friends ever since. He'd helped Michael through some tough times; for all he joked, he really was loyal to a fault. He'd given Michael and Gabriel a place to crash when they ended up homeless, then helped them get their apartment. When they were down on their luck and could barely afford the apartment, he'd paid for food and utilities. Scott's mom called Michael her other son because they spent so much time together for God's sake. But with something like this...? "Never mind. It's all over your head, you old burnout." He winked and laughed as Scott mimed being shot.

"You _had_ to go there, you little twerp!" Scott lunged at him, and they wrestled until they ended up a laughing mess on the ground. Michael was on top of him and felt the laughter deep in the larger man's chest.

"We look like a couple of jackasses." He grinned.

"Two sweaty shirtless jackasses on top of each other. Sounds like a porno to me." Scott reached up his hand to clasp the back of Michael's neck, but hesitated, his hand hovering just above the skin. Suddenly, they both stopped laughing. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Michael cleared his throat before he stood up.

"I've gotta get back home. Gabe's waiting for me." He avoided looking Scott in the eye as he pulled on his sweatshirt and coat. "I'll text you for tomorrow night's set, alright?"

"Yeah. Sure. Alright." Scott stood up and practically sprinted over to his dressing table. "I'll see you around, man."

"Bye." Michael saluted and ducked his head, hurrying out the back door.

_What the fuck was that?_

* * *

As soon as Michael had stepped through the front door, he'd been bombarded with smoke, sending him stumbling back and coughing. For a second he thought his worst dreams had come true and Gabe had _actually set fire to the apartment_, but then he realized that he recognized the smell. It was the smell of a bunch of high schoolers who smoked and got high and thought they understood the universe, except this time, it was sweeter, _and stronger. _He looked back into the apartment and froze at what he saw.

The Fellowship plus Gabriel were lounging around the living room in a pallet that had been built out of the chair cushions and all of the blankets and pillows in the apartment, each of them with a pipe in their hand, including Gabriel. It looked like a goddamn opium den. Everyone froze when he opened the door, looking like a bunch of deer in the headlights of a truck. But one person in particular almost dropped his pipe with a whispered curse of "shit".

Michael looked at Gabriel.

Gabriel looked at Michael.

Aragorn cleared his throat.

No one dared to even breathe.

"You're so fucking dead." Michael said in a deadpan tone of voice.

"Mike, I can explain." Gabriel raised up his hands.

"I am going to kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting my boot in the afterlife." Michael threw down his bag and stormed towards his brother. "Hashem can't save you now."

"Master Michael, there's hardly anything wrong with a little smoke!" Boromir cried, coughing and giving a lopsided smile. "He's a young man, he can take it!"

"Me and Pip were hardly tweens when we had our first smoke." Merry spoke up. "It's not anything to-!"

Michael jabbed a finger at them. "You come into my house, you bring your weird-ass Middle Earth weed, you smoke it, _in my house, AND YOU INTRODUCE MY BABY BROTHER TO IT?!_"

They were silent, looking at the man in front of them. A vein had popped out on his forehead, the cords were standing out in his neck, and he looked ready to murder each and every one of them. No one moved until Gabe slowly offered his pipe. "Want a hit?"

Michael stared at him with his mouth open. "What?" He finally sputtered.

"Dude, chill. It's just some pipeweed. It's not even actual weed!"

"It's fantasy weed, and that's good enough to get the cops called on you!" Michael looked behind him to make sure the neighbors weren't listening, but lowered his voice anyway. "Do you know how much shit I'd get in if you were caught with this?!"

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "Mike, do I have to remind you of the time when you were my age that I found you so faded out of your _mind_ that you-."

"Okay, okay." Michael raised his hands and looked over the Fellowship. He was tired, he was stressed, he had no idea what to do with the situation he'd been put in, and before he knew it, he'd closed the door, shucked off his jacket and sweater, and plopped down next to Legolas and Gimli. "Hit me." He said in resignation.

* * *

A sharp knock woke Michael up out of the deep, dreamless sleep he'd been having. He grunted and sat upright, looking around. He was shirtless and had passed out in the middle of the floor, and the rest of his guests had seen fit to follow suit. Pipes were strewn everywhere; if the social worker walked in at that moment, Michael would be a dead man.

_She's not going to be here until tomorrow._ He yawned and laid back down, covering his face with his arm. He could catch some more sleep until his late shift...

There was another knock on the door. He groaned and stood up, rubbing his forehead. He looked around again and saw Gabriel curled around a pillow in his chair and smiled.

Another knock.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your panties in a wad." He called, rubbing his forehead as he walked to the door, grumbling in Yiddish the entire way. He undid the lock and opened the door, blinking blearily. "If you're selling something, I don't want any-." His eyes widened as he cut himself off. "I - I - Rabbi Gofman!"

* * *

**Please review! **


	5. An Unexpected Development

**I AM SO SORRY Y'ALL I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR THE LATE UPDATE EXCEPT THE SILMARILLION HAS TAKEN OVER MY LIFE**

**If anyone's interested, I'll be publishing a Silmarillion AU where our favorite kinslayers find themselves in the modern world, except without a dedicated fan to help them out. So yeah.**

**Dedicated to my brother, who pretended to like my baking for years until I actually got better at it.**

* * *

"Rabbi Gofman!"

The old Rabbi raised his eyebrows and glanced Michael over. "Hello, Michael." He said with an amused smile. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"No! No, of course not." Michael forced a smile and closed the door slightly, trying to hide the scene behind him. "But, uh, what are you doing here?"

"You did not come to Temple yesterday, and we were worried about you." Gofman frowned slightly and looked him over again. The Rabbi and his wife Hannah never had children, but he considered Michael and Gabriel as close as sons, and the brothers saw him as a father or grandfather figure. As such, he thought he was well within his rights to be concerned when Michael looked as panicked as a burglar with his hand in the donation box. "Is everything alright, my son?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I just, uh, had some friends over." Michael laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, breaking out into a nervous sweat and hoping that Gofman wouldn't call him on his bluff.

The old man raised an eyebrow. "And you ended up without a shirt?"

"Yeah, well, you know how we guys get, right?" Michael shrugged. He heard people stirring in the apartment and desperately prayed that they would realize the delicacy of the situation and stay put. "Just guys being guys!"

"Is Gabriel there with you?" He tried to look over Michael's shoulder, and the teen closed the door further.

"Uh, no he's not." Michael was slowly closing the door further and further. "He went to spend the night with some friends, and as a matter of fact I need to go and get him, so it was good to see you, I'll come to Temple on Friday night, and-."

"Master Michael? Who are you speaking to?"

Michael froze with the smile fixed on his face as Gofman's eyebrows raised even higher. Legolas came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. "Who is this?" The Elf asked curiously. "A friend?"

" 'Master', huh?" Gofman nodded slowly, looking between them with an expression that Michael knew all too well. _God damn it all_. "You know, son, if you wanted some time to be young and wild, you could have asked-."

"Sir, I promise, this is _not_ what it looks like." Michael was desperately trying to cover his story. "I - uh - this is my friend Lawrence!" He opened the door and dragged Legolas forward to stand next to him, hoping the panicking smile he gave the blond would communicate his meaning. The Elf had ended up in a long t-shirt and sweatpants, so the only thing that would give him away was his ears, and those were covered by his hair.

"Hello, sir." Legolas said awkwardly, acutely conscious of Michael's terror and the old man's scrutiny. He was used to speaking in front of politicians, but he had never been so aware that he was ignorant in what to do. Was this how they talked in America? Did he have the diction right? Why was the old man looking between them knowingly?

The old man chuckled. "Michael, if you wanted to introduce me to your _bashert,_ could you not have brought him to Temple with you one day?" He asked amusedly. Michael choked and turned bright red. "Or even invited Hannah and I over to dinner? I hate to interrupt you two in... _your state._"

"Rabbi, I'm not - we're not-." Michael started to say.

"I've known for a long time that you didn't just like the girls, _boychik._ Lie to your brother, lie to Hashem, but do not lie to me." He reached forward and patted his shoulder with a loving smile before looking to Legolas. "And hello to you, young sir. I am Michael's Rabbi. Tell me, my son, how long have you two been seeing each other? My, but you _do_ look familiar..."

Legolas raised his eyebrows as Michael stammered, increasingly flustered. "Rabbi, I'm not - we're not together." He laughed nervously. "I'm not like that."

"Lying to your Rabbi is a sin, Michael." Gofman laughed and shook his head. "Say no more, child. You do not have to hide yourself from me, but I will leave you and your... _friend_ until you are ready to introduce us." He winked at them. "Give Gabriel my love. _Shalom, kol tuv!_"

Before Gofman could turn away, Michael was roughly pushed aside by Gandalf. "I know your voice." The wizard murmured, examining the old man who seemed frozen in shock.

"_Kin-a-hora._" Gofman stumbled back, and Michael rushed to grab his arm to keep him from falling.

"Rabbi? What's wrong?" He asked, looking between them.

"Gandalf." Gofman whispered, his face pale and his eyes wide. Gandalf relaxed, letting out a breath of relief as he finally identified where he knew the Rabbi from. "It can't be..."

Gandalf smiled gently, reaching out a hand. "Hello, Benjamin." He said quietly.

* * *

_Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing ever._

Michael blew out a breath and finished making the requested tea, glancing at the scene from the corner of his eye. In the living room, Rabbi Gofman was sitting in Michael's chair with Gandalf across from him; he was currently talking to Frodo and remarking how much he looked like his uncle with a fondness that Michael had thought was reserved for him and Gabriel.

"But sir, I do not understand." Frodo said slowly. "How did you know my uncle? I thought you were a friend of Michael's."

Gofman and Gandalf exchanged glances and chuckled. "I'd like to know that too." Michael said as he brought the tray to the two old men, setting it down on the table. Gabriel and the others were crammed by the dinner table, watching the scene quietly. He gave Gofman his cup - green tea with two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk - and left Gandalf's for him to make his own. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the Rabbi, and dully remembered doing the same when he was a little boy, eager to hear more stories from him. "Rabbi, forgive my language, but what the hell is going on?"

Gofman took a sip of his tea and hummed with contentment before he turned his stern gaze to the young man sitting in front of him. "First of all, Michael, if you do not watch your mouth I will take you by the ear and drag you home so Hannah can deal with you herself. And another thing, I should be asking_ you_ that! Keeping strange men in your house when you have a brother to raise - pah! I should flay you for that alone! Just look at this mishegas!" Michael flushed and smiled sheepishly. Boromir and Aragorn exchanged quick glances. The man was obviously extremely old, but he moved like he was at least three decades younger. Something about him was strange. Not threatening - just the same kind of queerness that had surrounded Bilbo.

Gofman tried to glare at Michael, but ended up smiling and shaking his head instead. "And you see, it goes like this." With that he settled back and looked around to take in his audience before he started. "When I was quite young - just about your age, Michael - something quite strange happened. The year was 1938. I lived in a little town in Czechoslovakia, and I was young and full of anger at the world. I wished that I could be somewhere I could make a difference, somewhere Hitler and his Nazis could not reach me." He smiled sadly and set down his tea to clasp his worn and wrinkled hands together. "Then I met an old woman who offered me just that. She offered to take me to a place where there was a task of great importance being carried out, and if I wished, I could help them. If not, I could start a new life by myself. The choice would be mine. Of course, I sprung at the chance, and before I could say anything else to her, I found myself in a strange new place, called Middle Earth."

Michael sucked in a sharp breath as Gofman looked to Gandalf and exchanged fond smiles. He reached over and grabbed Gandalf's knee, nodding at some secret they had. "I met dear old Gandalf, and Frodo's uncle, Bilbo. They were travelling with a group of Dwarves, led by a man named Thorin, and they all graciously took me in, though quite a few of them had reservations about me. I was going to simply travel with them until they reached a town, but one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was swept up in their quest." His expression turned from wistful to saddened. "We lost Thorin and his nephews, and nearly lost others quite a few times, but we succeeded in the end. I lived in that world for some time, traveling here and there, meeting all kinds of people, before I began to miss my home, and people like me, however I once hated them. I spent another year searching for some way back, and eventually encountered the same old woman. She hadn't aged a day, even though right on six or seven years had passed. She told me that I could return, but she would expect something in return. She refused to name what. Naturally I accepted it, and bid farewell to my friends. I returned in 1944, and you and Gabriel know the story after that."

Michael blinked and looked at Gabriel, who had his eyebrows raised. "So..." Gabriel said slowly. "What you're telling me is that you made a deal with a witch that you didn't know what she was going to expect back?"

Gofman made an irritated noise. "You cannot understand how desperate I was to return home, Gabriel."

"No, but I can." Frodo said, drawing attention back to him. He was looking at Gofman warily, but like he was beginning to trust him. "You truly travelled with Bilbo?"

"I did. And I saw him back home to Bag End." He smiled sadly. "How is he anyway?"

"He is doing well. He lives in Rivendell with the Elves now, and he turned eleventy-one not five months past." Frodo smiled. He could see the affection that the old man in front of him had for his uncle, and for his two hosts. He saw that Michael and Gabriel trusted him and loved him wholly and completely, and even though he didn't know the boys that well, he trusted their judgement. Besides, he knew that Michael would never let anyone of ill character near his brother.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Benjamin is a good man." He assured the rest of the Fellowship, who looked unsure of the old man. "He downplays the part he had in Thorin's quest, though for his sake, I will let him tell you in his own time." He and Gofman laughed again.

"Am I the only one who feels left out on something?" Merry whispered to Pippin, who shook his head.

"Now then." Gofman turned his suddenly sharp gaze to the brothers. "You two have some explaining to do. How do you end up with a group of men from another world in your apartment?"

"Rabbi, I swear, it was an accident." Gabriel rushed out saying. "We were just having Passover, and then I went to open the door for the Prophet, and they were just _standing_ there."

"It's true." Michael said quickly, even though he winced when Gofman looked to him. "I swear to Hashem, Rabbi, Gabe opened the door and they were just there. They said that they had met a sorceress and she cursed them, and they ended up at the door."

"What they say is true." Aragorn spoke up, expression not changing as he caught the Rabbi's stern gaze. "We were travelling down from Caradhras when we encountered her. When her spell was over, theirs was the first door we saw. We hardly had time to realize where we were before Master Gabriel opened the door. I will give you my word that this is true."

"You shouldn't be mad at them or nothin'." Sam said as well. He could tell when an old man was cross with his children (for he acted like Michael and Gabriel were his) and he knew that however reckless they may be, they didn't deserve it. "They've been nothin' but kind to us since we got here, and that's the honest truth."

Gofman looked at the group before nodding and sighing, pushing his glasses up. "Well, then." He murmured. "Stranger things have happened."

"Rabbi, tell me that this isn't something that would happen to us." Gabriel said dryly. "Like, we seriously have the worst luck in the world."

"You should be grateful for what you have, and the blessings Hashem has given you." Gofman said. "But you're right. Only you two would manage to find a mess this big."

" 'Find'-?!"

"Just let it go, Gabe." Michael gave him a look that had the younger brother rolling his eyes, but he was quiet.

"But how will you manage when Monday comes?" The Rabbi asked. "Especially with Ms. Traynor coming. I do not think she will be as understanding as I am."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it." Michael muttered, standing up. "Look, I have work. And Gabe, _you_ have an essay to write. I _really_ need to get going." He ducked out of the room and went into his bedroom, grabbing his work shirt and apron and slinging it over his shoulder. He thought for a moment about what to do with the Fellowship. They couldn't very well sit around all day, and Gabriel needed to concentrate on his work, so... "Hey, guys?" He looked into the front room. "Does anyone want to come to work with me?"

Merry and Pippin stumbled over themselves in their excitement of saying "I do!" Sam and Frodo gave each other amused looks.

"I think we all should like to get out." Gandalf said, standing up.

"Right." Michael bit his lip in thought. "Uh, my closet's right here. Good luck finding clothes that fit."

"You can look in mine too." Gabriel said.

"And that is my cue to leave." Gofman stood up slowly with a gasp of pain. Gabriel helped him to his feet, noticing with concern that his hands were shaking. Gofman smiled and grasped Gabriel's neck. "You boys need to come to Temple on Friday night to make up for what you missed." He looked to Gandalf and smiled. "It is wonderful to see you again, my old friend." He hugged him tightly. "You have permission to beat these boys round the head if they misbehave for you."

"Thanks, _dad._" Michael rolled his eyes but smiled lovingly. "Okay, everyone change. I have to be there in twenty minutes, and it's a fifteen minute walk."

* * *

Lucy was getting tired of Michael being late. She was always early and had everything ready to go by nine-thirty, and usually he was right on time at nine forty-five. But it was five minutes until ten and he was nowhere to be found. She knew that he had his little brother to take care of at home, and he had another job to juggle, but it was so out of character for him to be so obviously and blatantly late. She sighed and finished making an iced coffee for a business woman who was snapping into her phone and threw her change on the counter as a tip. _Fourteen cents. Hooray, I can eat now._ She thought sarcastically, sweeping the change into the tip jar. Where the hell was Mike?!

The door opened in an explosion of conversation. Lucy looked up to see an extremely obviously stressed-out Michael... followed by a bunch of guys who looked like they came straight from a Renaissance fair. She blinked in surprise as nine guys of varying heights all piled into the bistro, looking around awkwardly. Michael did a headcount like he was a preschool teacher, then turned around and made eye contact with Lucy.

"Luce, I'm so sorry." He said, his shoulders dropping. "I really don't have an excuse this time."

Lucy wanted to be mad at him, but found herself rolling her eyes and smiling. "You're lucky it's me on shift and not David." She said as he rushed behind the counter, pulling his hair up and out of his face as he did so. "And, uh... who are these guys? You look like you found the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Oh! Yeah." Michael laughed nervously. "Uh, these are some friends of mine from out of town. They came to visit for Passover, and Gabe needs to work on his essay, so I told them they could come chill with me here."

She raised her eyebrow and examined the group of people standing by the entrance. "They're grown men. Do they need a babysitter?" She asked doubtfully.

"You have no idea." Michael grumbled, washing his hands quickly. "Guys, just sit down anywhere. When break time rolls around we can go out or something."

Lucy wanted to make a comment, but rolled her eyes instead. "Come on, we have to take inventory, and the cappuccino machine broke down, so _someone_ gets to fix it." She shoved his shoulder with a laugh, glancing at his weird friends out of the corner of her eye. She had a feeling this was going to be a weird day.

* * *

**Just a disclaimer, there will be no Michael/Legolas. Just some uncomfortable misunderstandings and a vaguely amused Elf prince.**

**Please review!**


	6. Everybody Hates Michael

**Hello! I managed to bang this one out pretty quickly. Please, _please_ review if you read!**

**Underlined text is in Elvish.**

**Dedicated to my brother, who says "fight me" an awful lot for a 5'7" 15-year-old.**

* * *

"It ain't natural." Sam muttered as he stared out of the window at the automated carriages speeding past. "Not none of it."

"Oh, come on, Sam, it's not that bad." Merry said cheerfully as he ate the club sandwich Michael had bought for him. Their host had bought them all whatever they wanted, despite his coworker's glances, an offer Merry and Pippin gladly took him up on. "The food is good, the drinks are better, and all in all, I think it's a quite welcome respite after that dreadful mountain."

Sam grumbled to himself, but was quiet. Frodo smiled slightly at his friend's concern before looking around him. They were in a... tavern of sorts, with large windows and small tables scattered across the room. The menu above the glass counter was written in colorful chalk, though he couldn't recognize most of the words. Inside the counter itself was an assortment of sandwiches and sweets, and behind it was a wide variety of machines. They'd watched Michael grapple with one for a good fifteen minutes, cursing angrily as his friend had laughed and teased him. They seemed to know each other quite well...

There was a steady stream of customers coming in from the busy street - and my, what a busy street it was! The automated carriages that Michael had called 'cars' zipped past either way and were parked up and down the street, and the pathways were teeming with people. There were some curious glances tossed their way, but for the most part people went about their business. It was as if they were all caught up in their own world, and could not be bothered to even say hello to the people they passed (though he supposed that if one did that, you would never stop saying hello.)

"How are you doing?"

Frodo looked up as Aragorn leaned over to ask him in a low voice. Frodo absently went to grasp at the Ring around his neck. Ever since they'd landed in this place, the Ring had felt lighter, almost like he'd left its influence back in Middle-Earth. It concerned him a bit, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he nodded and smiled to Aragorn. Aragorn hesitated, then nodded as well, patting his shoulder before turning back to his conversation with Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf.

"The boy is hiding something." Boromir was saying with a glance at Michael. "I do not trust him."

"You are being paranoid, Boromir." Gandalf assured him. "Master Michael will not let us come to any hard, this I may promise you."

"Why? Because you know his holy man? He knows what our quests holds, but he tells us nothing! Is that not deserving of mistrust?"

"I agree wi' him." Gimli added, shifting in his seat. "The boy's leavin' us in th' dark."

"Perhaps he simply does not know what to do." Legolas said. "He is young, even to your people, yet he has a brother that he raises, and two jobs to support them. And if I am correct, he is taking classes as well. Now, to have nine more to take care of? It is a wonder he helps us to begin with!"

"Helps us, indeed. What has he done besides make us breakfast and leave us with his brother?" Boromir leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It's all very queer to me. I do not trust-."

"Boromir, _enough._" Aragorn sighed. "Master Michael holds no ill will towards us. Why else would he give us free room and board? Why else would he take us to his place of work when he knows we have been stuck indoors for days? And I do not remember you holding this animosity towards his brother. Be done with your fear-mongering! We might see queerer sights here."

Legolas shook his head and stood from the table as the men argued quietly. He looked around the tavern - Michael had called it a 'bistro' - and walked up to the counter, looking at the food they had on display. They were arranged almost artistically, with every last detail knowing its place. He admired their maker's dedication.

"Can I help you with something?" Legolas looked up to see the girl leaning on the counter with a smile fixed on her face. What had her name been? Luce? Lucy?

He smiled politely. "No thank you. I was simply looking at what you had for sale." He gestured to the food.

"Well, let me know if there's anything you want. Mike says that you guys can eat all you want and it's on him." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was suspicious. "So, where do you and your friends come from? And how do you know Mike?"

"I - ah..." He cleared his throat. "My name is Lawrence. Michael and I met quite by accident, actually... it is a long and boring tale, I am quite sure you wouldn't want to hear it."

"Oh, I really would." There was no hiding the thinly veiled venom in her voice. "You know, _Lawrence, _Michael's been my friend for _years_, and I've almost _never_ seen him so stressed. And as his friend, it's my job to protect him when he thinks he can protect himself, but can't. That includes from strange people who I've never seen before, or heard him mention before, who turn up and follow him around." She smiled again. "Do we understand each other?"

He gave her an equally icy smile. "Quite well."

Michael came from the back room, blowing out a breath and wiping the sweat from his brow when he saw Lucy and Legolas smiling at each other like they were about to kill each other. _Oh, fuck.__ Is this some kind of sick mating ritual? God damn it, Lucy..._ He briskly walked over to where they were and took Lucy by her elbow, laughing loudly. "Hey, good to see you're making friends! Uh, Lucy, can you go and check the peppermint syrup stocks? I'm not sure I counted them right, and you know how I get when I'm tired." He forced a smile at her until she nodded and left, casting a look at Legolas over her shoulder. When the door shut behind her, Michael's shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh, thank God." He breathed. "I thought she was about to spring at you over the counter."

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, then saw Lucy straining to listen through the door. "She is suspicious." He said quietly. "She was asking how long we had known you, where we came from, and how we met."

Michael groaned, rubbing his forehead. "She is a good friend." He replied. Legolas silently marveled at his fluency in the language. "But she worries. She has seen Gabriel and I through terrible things, and does not wish for us to go through it again. Let me handle her." Legolas nodded, and Michael turned to go into the back room. He opened the door and looked around, cautiously stepping in. "Lucy? Hey Kane, where are you-?"

Lucy slammed the door shut, leaning against it with her hand and forcing Michael to make eye contact with her. "Mike, what the hell is going on?" She demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about-."

"I've never seen you this jumpy." She raised her eyebrows. "And you've never been late before for as long as I've known you, but that's two days in a row. And now you have these crazy-looking people looking like they dropped out of a fantasy novel, and you're speaking that weird-ass language - you can see why a girl would be suspicious!" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not stupid. So you can either tell me what's going on or I'll call your Rabbi and get _him_ to tell me."

Michael sighed and ran a hand over his face, his mind racing. He knew that Lucy meant well, but this was _really_ not what he needed. It was the exact _opposite_ of what he needed. "I... Look, Luce, thanks for being concerned, but really, I-."

"Do you really not trust me?" Her voice was quiet, and he winced like he'd been slapped.

"No, Lucy, that's not-."

"That's what it sounds like." She crossed her arms. "Look, I'm just... I worry about you. Ever since the things with your parents and sister happened-." Michael winced again, and she bit her lip. "Ever since then, I've just... I've been really worried about you, alright?"

"Being worried for five years must be hell on your stress levels." He joked lamely.

She stood there for a long moment, staring at him with the most heartbreaking expression on her face, before she pulled him into a tight hug. "Tell me if you need anything, okay?" She murmured. "I love you lots."

He forced a smile and patted her back. "Yeah... I love you too, Luce." He said quietly. "Just don't harass my friends, please?"

"You mean the ones who refuse to break character and keep calling me 'my lady'?" She joked with a smile before punching his shoulder. "Careful with them, your boyfriend might get jealous, especially of that blond guy."

Michael groaned as she opened the door and went back out into the bistro. "Scott is _not_ my boyfriend, Lucy!" He protested, following her. "We're just friends, and I _told_ you, I'm straight!"

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, honey." She winked, and he scowled. "Well you'll have a chance to tell him yourself, because here he comes."

Michael's head snapped up as the door opened and Scott cautiously stepped in. "Hey." He waved with a half-smile, and Michael smiled and did the same. "Just, uh... stopping by for some coffee."

"Same as usual?" Michael asked, trying to keep his expression nonchalant as he felt Lucy's eyes boring into him.

"You know me." Scott laughed and sat in the corner, pulling out his laptop and plugging it in. Michael set to making his coffee when Lucy sidled up to him.

"You have his ridiculously complicated coffee order memorized." She whispered, and he groaned again and hit his head on the cappuccino machine. "You could barely keep yourself from grinning when you saw him - face it, Mike, you're about as straight as a curly fry and as bi as a bicycle."

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "Lucy Georgia Kane, I am going to shove a croissant so far up your ass you'll be speaking French the rest of your life." He growled, and she laughed and lifted her hands before walking away. " 'Straight as a curly fry'..." He grumbled as he put the frappe in the blender. _It's not weird I have his order memorized. We're best friends, of course I know it. And yeah, I smiled, because I'm glad to see him! That's what friends do, right...?_

When Scott's drink was done, Michael snagged a marble brownie from the display case and set it on a plate, carrying it to Scott. "What's up, man?" He greeted him, setting down the plate and drink. Scott grabbed the drink and practically inhaled it. Michael crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in amusement. By the time Scott was done, the frappe was halfway gone.

"I'm working on some new music." Scott said. "C'mere, listen to what I have so far." He took off one of his headphones and held it out to Michael. He hesitated, then took it and leaned over to see the computer screen.

" '_Stupid-Ass Ballad, part 1_'?" He glanced at Scott, who was... blushing? Nah, it had to be his imagination...

"It's a work in progress, okay? Just listen." He hit play, and they fell quiet. It was still sketchy - the vocals were missing, of course, and the computer simulator could only do so much, but Michael found himself swaying to the music and humming along. It was absolutely an emotional piece, and if he knew Scott, it was probably going to drive people to tears when it was finished.

"Dude, that was great." He grinned and clapped his shoulder when it was done. "You're a fuckin genius, man."

"Eh, well..." Scott laughed. "I've got the best bandmate in the world, so, y'know..."

"Alright, man, let me know if you need anything else, okay?" Michael straightened out and was about to go back behind the counter when Scott grabbed his wrist.

"Hey man, look, I..." Scott rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Uh... I'm sorry about last night. That probably made things really weird, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable, okay?"

Michael felt a flush creeping up his neck and fervently wished it would go away. "It's no problem. We're cool."

"Alright." Scott grinned and let him go, clearing his throat before he put his headphones back on and went back to work. Michael went behind the counter and shoved Lucy's shoulder as he passed her by.

"What! I didn't say anything!" She cried.

"You were thinking it." They laughed together.

* * *

"Come on, come on, where the hell is it..." Gabriel growled to himself as he dug through Michael's old school stuff. He'd spent about three hours trying to read through _Paradise Lost_ before giving up and deciding that he was going to do what it took to survive and copy Michael's old essay. He just had no idea where it was. Or what it looked like. Or really if it was even worth looking at, knowing Michael...

His phone buzzed from beside him, and he grabbed it and looked at the text.

**Maryanne B. (English class)  
**hey :)  
**Maryanne B. (English class)  
**u want to come over and work on the essay?

Gabriel looked from the phone to the hopeless heap of garbage that was Michael's school stuff and gave it a half-hearted kick before sighing in resignation and texting a reply.

**Gabriel  
**Sure, I'll be there in 5 minutes  
**Maryanne B. (English class)  
**yay! ;* ;* cant wait~

He groaned and put on his coat, praying that this time the girl would manage to keep her raging hormones to herself and actually help him get this God-forsaken essay done.

* * *

Gabriel made polite conversation with Maryanne's parents before going up the stairs to her room. She lived down the street from his apartment complex in a two-story house that Michael never stopped grumbling about how he wanted it. He opened the door, then coughed as the smell of perfume hit him straight on. He opened his eyes to see candles everywhere and rose petals hastily thrown around, and... _fuck's sake._

"Hello, Gabriel." Maryanne was trying and failing to be sexy, draping herself over her bed. He was 90% sure that she was copying a pose from Playboy or something. "I'm so glad you could _come..._"

Gabriel groaned in irritation, dropped his bag, and stormed over to her. He grabbed her by her shoulders and dragged her upright so he could look her in the eyes. "Maryanne." He said in a level voice. "You're a nice girl, okay? So nothing against you. But I'm gay as fuck and _really_ not interested."

She gaped at him like he'd slapped her, then stammered, turning bright red. "O-oh. Okay, I-I'm sorry. I-I'll just..." She cleared her throat and started blowing out the covers. Gabriel sighed and rubbed his forehead and wondered why this always happened to him. _Why can't it be their brothers inviting me to a 'study session'?_ He thought mournfully. "Sorry about that." She smiled sheepishly. "Uh... do you want to work on the essay?"

"I think I'd better go." He muttered. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Wait, Gabe!" She called after him. "Look, I - here, you can copy my notes." She grabbed her folder and shoved it into his hands. "Just... let me make it up to you."

He raised his eyebrows, but smiled. "Thanks, Mary. See you 5th period." He started down the stairs.

"Bye!"

He passed by her confused parents. "I don't know which one of you has the porn mags, but keep them away from her. She's getting really bad ideas." He said before he showed himself out the door, shaking his head the entire way.

* * *

**This is really a filler chapter and I'm not sorry at all. Love y'all!**


	7. Oh, Master Michael!

**I'm so sorry for the late update! My Silmarillion AU has literally taken over my life.**

**slushee5: Of course! Though it's not what anyone would expect... ;D**

**This chapter is alternatively titled "Everyone Is Bi And Nothing Hurts" If that offends you: I'm not sorry.**

**Okay so we're getting more development with Michael and Scott, some advancement as far as the plot goes, and a scheming, meddling Fellowship. Also, prepare for the social worker next chapter!**

**I have facecasts for the OC's on my profile, as well as their singing voices, so yeah that's a thing.**

**Underlined text is in Elvish.**

**Dedicated to my brother, who's going through a rough time right now and is loved more than he understands.**

* * *

Legolas slid into his seat next to Aragorn as Michael cautiously went into the back room looking for Lucy. "She suspects." He said to Aragorn under his breath. "Michael is going to speak with her now."

Aragorn nodded and sipped at his coffee, glancing over to the door. Through the small window, he saw Michael wince like he had a knife stuck in him. "Do you think she is dangerous?" He asked his friend.

Legolas shrugged. "Well, she threatened me. But I think she is merely protective. Michael said that she has seen him through many terrible things."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, though he couldn't say he was surprised. For all Michael and Gabriel joked, he could see that they truly depended on each other for support, and were protective of each other beyond the normal bond between brothers. As he thought this over, the door to the room opened, and Lucy flounced out with a mischievous grin on her face. "Scott is _not_ my boyfriend, Lucy!" Michael groaned as he followed her. He glanced at the Fellowship and lowered his voice, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

" 'Boyfriend'?" Legolas muttered.

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, honey." Lucy winked at him and earned a scowl from the boy. "Well you'll have a chance to tell him yourself, because here he comes." She leaned on the counter and smirked at Michael's head snapped up, his eyes widening.

The door opened, and another young man entered. Aragorn could see the hesitation in his step and the nervousness in his smile and wave to Michael, which he returned. "Hey." The new man said in a breathy voice. "Just, uh... stopping by for some coffee."

"Same as usual?" Michael was trying his hardest to keep a straight face as his blush worsened. Why was he-?

_Oh. Oh, Valar._

Aragorn turned away from the scene to try and hide his smile. Legolas was fighting down laughter and disguised it as a coughing fit. "What?" Boromir asked. "What's so funny-?"

"Keep your voice down." Aragorn said before nodding to where Michael was leaning over to see something on the other man's machine, both of them flushed bright red. Boromir's eyes widened, and Legolas had to disguise his laughter again. Michael gave them a dirty look, and they sobered up.

"The old man asked if I was his 'bashert' earlier." Legolas whispered quietly. "Estel, are you thinking what I am?"

He slowly grinned and nodded, leaning back and taking another sip from his coffee as Legolas stood up and hurried over to Lucy. He whispered in her ear, and she nodded, hiding her smile with her hand. Michael was pretending to be busy and was focused on the man - Scott, presumably - so he didn't notice until it was too late when Legolas swung over the counter and draped his arm over his shoulders. "Oh, _Master_ Michael." Legolas drew out the title. The Hobbits dissolved into a fit of laughter as Michael froze. "_Do_ come and sit with us, we have much we wish to discuss with you..."

"_Lawrence._" Michael's voice was so falsely pleasant that Aragorn started to crack up. "I'm gonna give you one chance to get off of me before I punt you through the window-."

"Oh, come on, _Master_ Michael." Lucy purred as she took his arm with an exaggerated wink. "We _all_ are just _dying_ to get you alone..."

Michael stared straight forward with a stony expression on his face as Aragorn hid his face in his hands with laughter and Boromir stared at them with horror. Scott was bright red, staring at his device with an expression that could turn the strongest man into ash. Michael tried to worm his way out of their grip, but only made it worse as both Legolas and Lucy tightened their grips on him, spouting off more ridiculous nonsense every instant. Even Gandalf was laughing at their antics. Finally, Scott slammed his machine shut and stuffed it into his bag, standing up abruptly. That made the two blondes stop, staring at him in surprise. "I can see you're busy." Scott said in poorly disguised jealousy. "See you tonight, if you can make it." He turned on his heel and walked out.

"Scott, wait!" Michael called after him, but Scott didn't turn around. He finally broke out of their grips and turned to glare at them. "What the fuck was that about?!"

"We're trying to get you to realize that you like Scott and get together with him already." Lucy said, crossing her arms defiantly. "Not my idea, by the way."

Michael glared at Legolas. "Why did you do that?" He growled.

"A trick I learned as an Elfing." Legolas replied evenly, even with a hint of a smile. "A little embarrassment will reveal true emotions. And I was not sure if you would prefer me or Lucy, so we went with both. Simple, really."

Michael groaned. "Go to hell, you two." He grumbled before storming into the back room to cool off.

Lucy laughed and turned to Legolas. "High five, dude." She grinned and held up her hand. Legolas hesitated before he lifted his hand her hers. "Uh... you're supposed to like, hit it with your hand. Like this." She took his hand by the wrist and demonstrated.

"Oh."

"... Anyway, that was great! What did you say to him?"

Legolas winked. "I do not give away my secrets, Lady Lucy." He jumped over the bar again and walked back to the Fellowship, who looked at him like he was a god. Lucy stared at him, then shook her head, going to check the machines.

"Ye played that part well." Gimli said. "Bit too well, in my opinion..."

Legolas shrugged. "Elves are not as rigid in our attractions to others." He said nonchalantly. "It is not uncommon for men to love other men, or women to love other women." Boromir muttered something into his glass, but didn't look up. "It cannot be different here. He is being encouraged by many people he trusts to embrace himself, so I cannot understand why he does not."

"Because he is young and is not sure of himself yet." Aragorn replied. "You cannot blame him for that."

"Perhaps. But speaking from experience, the sooner he realizes himself, the less pain he will put himself through."

"... Wait. Does that mean-?"

"Leave it, Boromir."

* * *

"Hey Lucy?"

"Yeah, Mike?"

"How much do you love me?"

Lucy glanced at Michael out of the corner of her eyes. "Not enough for what you're about to ask me to do." She said firmly.

He groaned, turning to lean against the counter. "Look, I've got to go to work at the club, and I _can't_ take them there." He begged. "Can't you _please_ just watch them for me until I get off?"

"And why can't you take them there?" She teased. "I'm _sure_ they'll just _love_ it-."

"If you think I'm taking them in there, you're mistaken." He raised his eyebrows at her. "You owe me from that shit you pulled earlier. Scott's gonna be pissed, and I can't work with him when he's pissed, so will you _please_ just do me this solid and-?"

"Okay, fine!" She threw her hands in the air and was promptly crushed in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.

"Thanks, Luce." He kissed her cheek. "Love you, gotta go!" He stripped off his apron and grabbed his bag from under the counter, throwing it over his shoulder and bolting for the door. "Okay, everyone!" He called the Fellowship's attention. "I have to go to my other job, and Gabe still needs to study, so y'all are going to go with Lucy. She has my phone number in case anything goes wrong. Behave for her!"

"Tell your _melda_ '_Ídhron cened i chent gîn n'i gellog_'!" Legolas grinned.

"You know what? You can _matho nin sui mathog i vagleg_." Michael rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture as Legolas laughed and Aragorn shook his head. "See you guys when I get home. Luce, just let yourself in."

"Goodbye, Michael! Thank you for the food!" Pippin called as Michael hurried out the door, crossing the street. "What were you saying to each other?"

"You do not want to know, young master." Gandalf assured him as Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other and fell into a fit of laughter.

"So, it's just us, huh?" Lucy said as she wiped off the counters. "I don't know if we've all been introduced. Hi, I'm Lucy Kane, and I'm Michael's friend. And you all are...?"

Gandalf smoothly introduced them using the fake names and backstories that Michael had come up with, silently examining this strange girl for himself. She was the fourth person from this world that he had met, and the only one he had to conceal himself from. While Michael may trust her, he was unsure, especially with the Ring concerned.

Finally, Lucy finished her closing work and gestured to the door. "Okay everyone, I guess we're going back to my place." She herded them out the door and locked it behind her, shaking her head. What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

"Scott! Hey, Scott, wait up!"

Michael jogged through the club to where he saw Scott disappearing backstage, shouldering his way through the opening staff. "Scott - _Scott!_ Anderson, don't ignore me!" He opened the door to the dressing room and closed it behind him. Scott was pointedly ignoring him as he messed with something on his dressing table, and Michael sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the door. "Okay, dude, look. We can act like a couple of Jr. High girls, or we can talk to each other. Ball's in your court."

Scott turned around and leaned against the dressing table, his face unusually blank. Usually he was an open book; the emotionless expression unnerved Michael, to say the least. "I thought you'd be busy with your _friends._" He smiled bitterly.

"Oh, my god." Michael groaned. "Really? You're jealous because of what Lucy and Le - Lawrence pulled? What are you, my girlfriend or something?" An awkward silence fell between them. "Look... Lucy's like my sister, okay? And Lawrence is... Lawrence. I'm not doing _anything_ with them. They just decided to be assholes in front of you for whatever reason." He laughed nervously.

"Oh." Scott blinked and nodded his head thoughtfully. "Good, I thought you were having wild orgies without me, and you know how that shit flies around here."

They laughed for a minute before the silence fell again. "So, uh." Michael cleared his throat. "We're good now, right?"

Scott hesitated before he nodded with an obviously forced smile. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

Michael sighed. "Damn it, Scott, don't lie and say things are okay if they're not!"

"Well, what else can I say?" Scott snapped. "Yeah, I got jealous. I thought..." He angrily shook his head with a frustrated noise. "Obviously I was wrong. Just... Go home, Mike. Take the night off and stay with your brother or something."

"Hey, man." Michael caught his shoulder before he could storm past. "You're my best friend. I'm not gonna ditch you." They stared at each other before Scott slowly smiled.

"Better get your eyeliner on." Scott said, jutting his chin to the clock. "We're on in five."

* * *

Michael groaned as he dropped his bag by the door, fishing in his pockets for the keys. He was absolutely exhausted after the night's music set, and from dancing around the elephant in the room with Scott. He hoped Gabe was in bed, or else he was going to be a nightmare in the morning-

The door flew open, and Lucy stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. _Oh fuck._ "You have some explaining to do." She snarled before she grabbed him by the front of the shirt, dragging him inside.

* * *

**Please please review! Reviews make me write faster ;)**


	8. The Trials and Tribulations of Lucy Kane

**UGH IM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! My life went to hell and back, but I'm alive (sort of) so that's what matters. In other news, as of May 2nd, I am now a bona-fide adult ;D**

**Anyways, I know I promised the social worker this chapter, but the bulk of it will have to wait until the next chapter... this kind of got away from me. Apologies.**

**Underlined text is in Elvish, as always.**

**Dedicated to my brother, and his undying love for Anne Rice and Lawrence of Arabia. But if I hear him call Lawrence his "small gay son" one more time...**

* * *

The apartment was pitch black until Lucy switched on a lamp and crossed her arms, seething in rage. The apartment had obviously been sifted through, and Michael felt panic welling up in him. "What the hell happened?" He asked. "Why is the apartment-?"

"I went through it." She answered bluntly.

"What?! Why-?"

"I was looking for the drugs you must fucking be on to let these nut jobs stay with you and Gabe!" She held out her hand. "Just give them to me, Mike, and we can stop this here."

Michael's jaw dropped incredulously as his mind reeled. "What the fuck?! Lucy-!"

"You let nine lunatics who think they're from Lord of the_ fucking_ Rings into your apartment when you're already on thin ice with Social Services!" She reached behind a chair and pulled out one of the Fellowship's swords - Boromir's, from the look of it. "Look at this! This could _kill_ someone!" She shook it to emphasize her point before she dropped it. "And this isn't even all I found - you let a bunch of guys carrying _these_ into your house?! With your baby brother?! _Didn't you learn your lesson?!_" At that point she was screaming, roughly shoving Michael's chest. He stumbled back, trying to bite back the blind panic that was running through his veins.

"Lucy, let me expla-."

"What is it? Painkillers? Acid?" Her eyes were burning with more anger that Michael had seen in years. "The Michael I know would never let anyone like them within a million _miles_ of his brother! The Michael I know would _never_ lie to his friends about what was going on no matter how crazy it was!" He knew he wasn't going to get anything out of her if she was like this - he needed to calm her down, and quick. Before she could shove him again, he caught her hands by her wrists, holding fast as she struggled. "Let me the _fuck_ go!"

"Lucy, I need you to listen to me!" He shouted over her protests. When she continued to curse and struggle, he sighed heavily and picked her up, ignoring her screaming, and carried her into his room. The floor was cleared of the pallets, and he threw her on the bed and crossed his arms as she glared at him.

"Tall bastard." She muttered, scrambling to a sitting position.

"Luce, I'm not crazy, and I'm not on drugs. Okay?" He turned out his pockets to show her. "And I know you went through the rest of the apartment, and you and I _both_ know that it's clean. We can go to the drugstore right now and get a drug test, I promise I'll come up negative."

"Well, what do you want me to believe? That you personally know the Fellowship of the _fucking_ Ring and they just _came over_ to your place to hang out for Passover?"

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let's start at the beginning." He pulled up his chair and sat down, facing Lucy. "What the hell happened today?"

* * *

**_An hour and a half earlier_**

"This is absolutely mind-numbing." Legolas complained, leaning back into the beanbag chair he was reclining in. "Even Orcs have more rousing tales."

"Orc tales do not enrapture Boromir so." Aragorn replied with the flash of a grin, the two of them looking to where Boromir and the Hobbits were watching the second season of _Friends_. They hadn't moved from their spots in front of the TV ever since Lucy had popped the DVD in, and had quickly absorbed every detail of the story.

"This is all we have been doing since Michael left." He raised his eyebrows. "Do you know how long it has been, Estel? Seven. Hours. My mind shall rot from this - this-!"

"Popcorn!" Lucy called from the kitchen, and Merry and Pippin scrambled over themselves in their rush to grab the bowl and return to their seats. Lucy herself came out of the kitchen drooping with exhaustion. Gimli scooted over on the couch, and she took a seat next to Aragorn, kicking up her feet on the coffee table and sighing. "Finally." She groaned, and Aragorn could practically see the stress seeping from her body as she relaxed into the soft cushions. "I haven't had a chance to sit down all day."

"I apologize." Aragorn said for at least the twentieth time. "If you had told us that you had errands to run-."

"I'm pretty sure you don't want to tag along to my gynecologist appointment." She grinned. "Or go to visit my mom, or go to the lumber yard, or go to my other doctor's appointment, or... basically anything I had to do."

Aragorn normally would have protested, but he was acutely aware that he was supposed to be hiding their true identities, so instead he nodded. Gandalf was currently in the room she used to study for her schoolwork - _a young woman in a college? What more wonders does this world hold? - _looking for any clues as to how to return to Middle-Earth, with Frodo and Sam helping him. Without him to guide them in their covers, Aragorn knew it was up to him to maintain the illusion that they were from this world. There was such a short time until Michael would return, and then they would be able to speak freely...

Lucy looked him over and wrinkled her nose, then glanced over an equally grimy Boromir. "You sure you don't want a shower?" She asked. "Mine is pretty small, and the hot water goes out sometimes, but..." She laughed nervously. "Look, I don't know if it's this Ren-faire thing you have going on, but you look like you haven't seen a bottle of shampoo in months."

"My lady, I will have you know that-!"

Lucy held up a hand to cut off Legolas' indignant tirade. "I wasn't talking to you, hot stuff. You're alright, it's Mr. I-sleep-outside-and-don't-shower-because-it's-fun over there."

Legolas actually smirked. "Which one are you referring to?"

"All of them." She raised her eyebrows in return. Aragorn had to admit, they had hit off fantastically, even after their initial turbulence.

"If that was intended to imply that we are unhygienic, then you are quite mistaken." Boromir said without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Uh-huh." She lifted his hair with her toe with an unabashedly disgusted expression on her face. "And this is clean?"

Aragorn chuckled as Boromir visibly restrained himself from swatting her away. "I do not know what this 'shampoo' is, but Men of Go-."

"Ghana!" Aragorn blurted out, remembering the country Michael had told him to use. He cursed himself inwardly as he scrambled to remember the details. "Boro - _Benjamin_ is, uh, not used to Americanian customs. Forgive him."

Lucy raised her eyebrows as everyone in the room froze. "Ooooookay." She said slowly. "Uh... if you guys don't know what shampoo is, then you're definitely showering. Like, right now." She stood up and grabbed Boromir by the wrist, dragging him after her. "You first, Ben. I'll show you how to work it and make sure you don't kill yourself, because if you don't know what _shampoo_ is, I'm willing to bet that you don't know how to work a shower."

As soon as he was out of the room, Aragorn let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Valar, help me." He murmured to himself.

"Ye did well." Gimli offered half-heartedly. "Do ye think she...?"

"Maybe." There was the sound of rushing water and Boromir's exclamation of confusion and delight. "I hope not."

Lucy came back down the hallway with a falsely pleasant smile on her face. "I'm going to run to the store real quick." She said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to the front door.

"At this hour of the night?" Gimli asked. "Lass, don't ye think that's a bit of a bad idea-?"

"I can take care of myself. Just don't burn the place down, I'll be back in ten minutes." She waved and set off down the hallway, the front door slamming behind her. Aragorn groaned and let his head fall back. How did Gandalf do it?

"You are doing quite well, Estel." Legolas said, as if he had read his friend's mind. "Especially considering that this is our first time without the guidance of either Michael or Gandalf."

"Do you think Gandalf will find anything that will tell us how to get home?" Pippin asked, tearing his eyes away from the screen.

"I hope so." Aragorn said, rubbing between his eyes. "I am eager to continue on with our quest, though this has been a welcome reprieve."

"What shall we do about Michael and Gabriel?" Merry turned away from the screen as well, both Hobbits turning to face the others.

"It seems awfully cruel to leave them alone after this." Pippin agreed.

"They aren't alone." Gimli said. "They have th' old man Gandalf knew."

"And Michael has his friends to help him." Legolas smiled sadly. "They are worthy friends, but they do not belong in Middle-Earth with us."

They were cut off by an exclamation from the study. "Aragorn! Come quick!" Frodo cried, and Aragorn flew to his feet at the sound of Frodo's distressed voice. He ran down the short hallway and threw open the door, and was surprised at the sight he was met with. Frodo and Sam were pouring over a large tome on the floor, and Gandalf held the other two. The Hobbits looked pale and drawn, though Gandalf looked more lost in thought than ever.

"Is everything alright?" The Ranger asked, looking around the windowless room for any threats. It was a small, cozy space, with a desk stacked high with books and a machine like the one Scott had used on top of the wood. Two bookshelves took up an entire wall, and several lamps were scattered through the room, filling it with warm light. The Hobbits were seated on a soft-looking and colorful rug that had been thrown on top of the hard wooden floors. "What happened?"

"We found the tale we come from." Frodo said in a shaky voice, not looking up from the pages.

Aragorn faltered as the severity of the situation revealed itself. They had in their hands the entire future of the Fellowship, their very fates written out as if they were carved in stone. "We haven't read ahead or nothin'." Sam said as he looked up. "We don't rightly know if we should. Maybe Mr. Michael didn't tell us for a reason."

Aragorn sat across from them on the carpet and looked at the green leather-bound book in their hands. "Gandalf?" He asked, not looking away. "What do you think? Have you read ahead?"

"Of course not." Gandalf said, setting down the books. "To do so would be to tempt fate itself. It is best for us that we do not know what lies ahead."

A breath of relief blew out from all of them, and slowly, Frodo closed the book he held. "It bodes well that there are three of them, though, don't you think?" He offered up.

There was a click behind him, and he froze as Frodo and Sam's eyes widened. "Don't move." Lucy's trembling voice said.

* * *

Lucy and Michael were silent for a long moment after she finished telling her story. "You mean to tell me," Michael said slowly. "That you held nine of Middle-Earth's best at gunpoint with a gun you don't even know how to shoot, and locked them in your study?"

Lucy groaned and rolled her eyes, obviously frustrated that her concerns had gone straight over his head. "Mike, they're saying they're from Lord of the Rings! As far as I'm concerned, they could be serial killers or something! You really expect me to-?!"

Michael went to cover his mouth with his hand, but instead a flash of images flooded over both of them, like when Michael and Gandalf had first met. Sensations washed over them, almost drowning them in the rush of sensory information. Lucy let out a choked scream and fell back on the bed, taking Michael with her until they were laying side by side, staring at the ceiling in wonder as the flood came to a close.

"What the _fuck._" She whispered after a long minute.

"Yeah." He agreed shakily. "That's what I said too."

Lucy sat bolt upright, grabbing fistfuls of hair in both of her hands. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I threatened to shoot Aragorn!" She looked at him with eyes wide in panic. "Mike, oh my _god!_ Tolkien's gonna _kil__l_ me!"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath. "_I'm_ going to kill you, you absolute dumbass." He sat up and grabbed his jacket and Lucy's wrist, dragging her after him as he stormed towards the front door. "Get your car keys, princess, we're going to get them. And then you're apologizing and buying us dinner."

* * *

Michael was the first one to step into Lucy's flat. "Guys?" He called. "It's Michael."

"Master Michael!" Pippin's voice cried before he was hushed. "Is Miss Lucy with you?" This time, his voice was cautious and a bit afraid.

"She's staying outside." He took the study key from her and walked slowly towards the door. "Look, there was a huge misunderstanding, but I've told her everything and yelled at her for about twenty minutes. We're okay now, alright?"

"Sorry, guys." She called sheepishly.

"I'm going to unlock the door." Michael took another step. "Then we're going back to my place and I'm going to give Lucy another lecture about threatening my friends with deadly weapons." There was no reply, and he sighed heavily. "Luce, if you've traumatized them, I'm actually going to kill you." He grumbled as he unlocked the door and swung it open, turning on the lights. As soon as he registered the scene he was looking at, he bit his lips to try and hold in his laughter. He failed, of course, and ended up bent over as he cackled.

"What?" Lucy called. "Mike, what is it? What happened?" She yelped as he grabbed her hand again and dragged her into sight, and her eyes widened as her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, no. Oh, honey, _no._"

"This is not something I find amusing." Boromir said stiffly, glowering at all of them as even the Fellowship started to laugh, the tension melting away. They could barely see his face in the mass of frizzy hair that extended off of his head, and he brushed it away irritably as he tightly held the towel wrapped around his midsection. It was obvious that he'd barely stepped out of the shower when he was shoved into the study.

"Don't tell me you gave him free reign of the shower." Michael gasped, sliding to the ground as he held his sides.

"Ben - I mean, Boromir - I'm _so_ sorry." Lucy bit back her giggles and looked away politely. "Here, let me - I'll be right back." She moved in the apartment and burst into laughter. "Tolkien's gonna crucify me." She giggled as she grabbed his clothes from the bathroom, returning to the study. As soon as she saw their wary expressions, though, her stomach dropped as she realized the severity of what she'd done. "Um..." She rubbed her neck before she held out the clothes like an olive branch. "I really am sorry. I thought - I don't even know what I was thinking. But I believe you now, and I - if you'll let me, I'd - I'd like to help you."

Boromir reached out and took the clothes with a tight smile. "I forgive you." He said hesitantly. "And I am sure the others will too."

"Of course!" Sam agreed quickly. "Terribly sorry to have given you such a fright, Miss Lucy."

She grinned and wrung her hands before a thought hit her like a freight train. She spun around to look at Michael with wide eyes. "Mike, where the hell is Gabe?!"

* * *

**I know it's terrible, just give me a break**


	9. Author's Note and Excuses

***shows up to fic 6 months late with Starbucks, a revamped profile, and a couple of existential crisises***

**Oh man. Ooooh man. You will not ****_believe_**** the shit that has happened.**

**First off, I'm so grateful to come back to so many supportive reviews and comments. A few kind souls sent me pms, and I'm so so so indebted to you all. People like you are the reason I write. **

**On a serious note, here I am, six months later, a couple of states away from where I grew up, with a whole lot of crap off my chest. I've had a lot of really bad bouts with mental illness these past few months (depression and psychosis ain't fun y'all, especially not both at the same time, and oh let's throw crippling anxiety and executive dysfunction on top of that ISN'T THIS FUN) but I'm finally coming out on top, I think. I'm throwing myself back into writing, because I've really missed this like I'd miss my right arm. I'm sad to see that some of my favorite people in the community have left, but hey, that's what happens when you drop off the face of the earth for a few months, I guess.**

**Anyway, as you've probably gathered, I based this fic off of my brother and I. As of right now, I don't have any contact with him or any of our family, for his sake and mine. Will that affect the story? Who knows. Let's find out.**

**Anyway. It's 5 AM while I'm writing this because I decided to pull up this profile on a whim and got hit in the chest with nostalgia. If you want the full story of what happened, feel free to pm me. I can't promise it'll be cheerful, but hey, c'est la vie.**

**I'll update this soon! But the next chapter IS IN PROGRESS!**


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